


Or Stay

by sophinisba



Series: Five Ways Lancelot Got What He Always Wanted [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Community: kink_bingo, Drug Addiction, Gen, Held Down, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 22:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month ago he'd have woken Merlin on his way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Another AU inspired by Merlin 4x09. For the "held down" square on my second kink_bingo card.

A month ago he'd have made enough noise crossing these old floorboards to wake Merlin up, but he's practiced now, and careful. His touch on the doorknob is slow and smooth.

It doesn't move.

The deadbolt is in the right place, but he turns it anyway, tries at the knob again. And again, with force this time – never mind Merlin, it's not as if he doesn't know. Lancelot starts pounding at the door.

And then Merlin's there with him – behind him, around him, pressing him flat against the door and murmuring, "It's no use, Lancelot, come back to bed."

"You would make me a prisoner in my own room?"

"In our room, yes." Merlin's voice is tired, his body strong and close. "But only until morning."

Lancelot pushes Merlin off and twists around. "Give me the key."

"It's locked from the outside. When Gwaine and Percival get back –"

"When Gwaine and – So _they're_ free to spend their nights and their wages at the tavern, but I –"

"Yes."

"Do you think the lock on a boarding house door can stop me, Merlin? Do you think –"

"No." Merlin wraps his arms around Lancelot's torso again and squeezes tight (and by some paradox that lets him breathe easier). "And I don't think I could hold you if you were determined to go."

Lancelot touches Merlin's wrists at his sides. It would be easy enough to push him away if he'd started in a fighting pose, in a noble mood. But now he's tired, clumsy, and just a bit ashamed, though Merlin's been kind enough not to name it yet.

Merlin starts shuffling them back toward the bed, and Lancelot lets him.

"Gwaine and Percival have been getting drunk in taverns for as long as we've known them. That's them. It's what they do."

"I know," Lancelot says softly.

"That's not you." He gets Lancelot to lie flat on his back, pushes up his wrists until his knuckles touch the wall. He leans over him and slowly shifts his weight until he's covering every part of him, arms on arms and legs on legs, his lanky awkward weight pressing Lancelot into the thin mattress. And Lancelot thinks of throwing him off, but instead he lies still. Sinks.

"You can hit me if you want to. You can knock me out, leave me bleeding on the floor. You can go off and smoke that pipe until you forget about us all."

"That's not – " Now he's named it, near enough, and Lancelot's body surges up against him, screaming with anger and want, but his shame keeps the words from getting past his lips.

As much as it hurts, his body wants this too: this closeness, this care. He's craved it for longer than he has the drug, even if he never quite realized. But Merlin, bless him, seems to understand.

"You can go," Merlin says, his voice firm and grounding as the weight on Lancelot's chest. "Or you can stay here, and remember who you are."


End file.
